


The Tale of Flash Thompson

by DOOOOWEEEOOOOOOO



Series: The Tales of Peter Parker [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Drug Use, Flash Thompson Redemption, Gen, I Don't Even Know, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Kinda, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Party, Partying, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, ig
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-01-13 16:25:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18472660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DOOOOWEEEOOOOOOO/pseuds/DOOOOWEEEOOOOOOO
Summary: It was weird, Flash thought. Seeing the Peter like this and only wanting to help, even though he was the guy he frequently made fun of at school. Well. First time for everything.ORThe one where Peter Parker is in some serious trouble and Flash Thompson is there to help.





	The Tale of Flash Thompson

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know where this came from, I should be doing important stuff ™

Flash leaned back against the brown leather armchair. With a sigh, he scanned over the crowd, looking for something. He wasn't sure what it was.

The air in the cramped living room was definitely not 21% oxygen anymore. He glanced at the plants on the window sill. Traitors. But to be fair, he hadn't seen the sun in a few hours, so there was really not much they could do. Especially not against 50 teenagers who had been dancing to the blaring music for almost five hours now. He turned his eyes away from the whelked tips of the already slightly hanging leaves, and instead took to studying his watch.

It had once been his father's watch. He still had memories of the golden piece of jewelry glistening on the man's arm. But the display had been scratched, so the man had given it to his son. He couldn't be seen with a scratched watch, after all. It was still readable though, and right now the hands showed 1.37 am. Flash looked at the watch with a frown. Now that he thought about it, it looked kind of ridiculous on his way too small wrist. He took it off, weighting it in his palm. His wrist was sweaty.

The kissing and moaning of the couple in the armchair behind him gradually got louder and more intense. Frowning more, he contemplated where to move. He really wasn't in the mood for witnessing semi-public sex. He scanned the crowd again. _I wonder if I could get to the other side of the room without getting an elbow to the ribs._

He let his eyes wander over the variety of different faces. There was a dark-skinned girl with bright blue hair, grinning as she laughed to something her friend had said. There was a guy with deep purple lipstick and golden glitter on his eyelids, nodding his head to the bass of the music. There was a guy, who, for some reason, wasn't wearing any pants. And over there, there was a rather familiar mob of curly brown hair. Flash squinted. 

Peter Parker was standing over there, by the table on the other end of the room, swaying lightly on his feet and downing cup after cup of what seemed to be high percentage Vodka. He was obviously drunk, giggling and nodding along to some blonde guy Flash had never seen before, which was odd to say at least. The nerd usually wasn't one for social interaction. But judging by the speed at which Parker was gulping down his alcohol over there, it was kind of surprising that he even still knew how to nod. Or stand.

What was also mildly concerning, was the fact that the other teenager seemed to be here alone. Leeds was nowhere to be seen, despite those two very nearly sticking together at all times, and neither was Jones (which was less surprising, but still not really good).

Flash looked down at his scratched golden watch again. Could it be that they already left? That didn't sound right at all. He could not for the life of him imagine the nerd squad leaving Parker behind, especially not when he was clearly drunk. He stared at the ticking hand for a long, intense moment.

Flash shrugged. It wasn't his problem, was it? Peter was a big boy, he surely could take care of himself. Also, Flash didn't particularly like him, so it was technically none of his concern how the boy spent his time. That was Flash's thought as he gave the other teenager one last, suspicious glare.

However, his plan of turning away and ignoring Parker for the rest of the evening was quickly destroyed by the creepy guy, who just showed up next to his classmate. Instinct made Flash straighten his back and square his shoulders in anticipation. Parker didn't seem to notice the guy, probably too drunk (or too caught up in his rather one-sided conversation with what's-his-face over there).

Creepy-Guy was subtly digging through his pockets. It took Flash's brain less than a second to connect the dots, and realization to hit him square in the chest.

_Fuck._

Flash's muscled tensed. A cold shiver went down his spine. What the fuck was the protocol here? He hasn't been trained for this.

“Hey, Parker!” That obviously didn't work. Without plan or thought, Flash dashed right into the crowd, stumbling over his own feet. He pushed dancing teenagers out of the way, only more or less succeeding, as two out of three pushed right back.

 _Huh_ , he thought, _Now I'm the one shoving my elbows into other people's ribs_.

Flash tried, he really did. But no matter how hard he pushed, there was just no way he could have made it to Peter in time. And so he was left watching, as Creepy-Guy emptied a whole phial of clear liquid right into Peter's (annoyingly cliche) red plastic cup.

What's-his-face looked a the other guy for a second, smirking and giving him a single nod, which Flash probably would have missed if he hadn't been looking for it. _What the fuck._ Flash yelled his classmate's name again. Twice. But his voice drowned in the music.

Peter emptied his cup with only four big gulps.

Stunned, Flash stopped for just a second. Seriously, what the fuck, Parker? Flash was kind of impressed, if that was the right word. If the guy had been drinking like this the whole time, it was honestly a miracle he wasn't comatose yet.

 _Oh, well_. _It's not like the night is over already,_ Flash thought with a bitter tone underlying, as he watched the idiot's nose scrunch up in slight disgust. He pushed three more people out of his way. Then, finally, he was standing next to Parker and The Blonde. Who was about three inches taller than Peter and at least in his late twenties. _Creep_. Flash pushed him away too.

“Get lost, asshole, or I swear, I will not hesitate to call he cops,” Flash sneered. The guy seemed to actually consider staying for a moment, but when Flash raised his eyebrow and fished his phone from his pocked, he made a run for the door. What a douche. He probably still had drugs with him, because Flash doubted that The Blond would have been scared of this thread otherwise.

He turned around to Parker, who had the freaking audacity to look offended. “And you!” Flash took Peter's still empty cup out of his hand and slammed it down on the table. Not very effective, but never mind. “What the fuck, dude? Are you trying to get yourself killed, or what?”

Parker looked confused, his dumb pout appearing on his face. Flash wanted to punch him, but now was really not the time. “Flash?” No, scratch that, he was _this_ damn close to punching him. “What di' ya do that for? I was jus' havin' fun!” Flash looked at him incredulously. Wow. “Having fun? Fun?! Parker, that guy just spiked your drink!”

Peter looked absolutely crestfallen. With open mouth, eyes big as tennis balls and everything. He looked so fucking shocked at the realization that someone could spike your drink at a house party, it made Flash want to cry. “Are you sure? Maybe 'twas jus'...” He stopped, frowning down at his cup on the table.

_Oh God, how is that guy even still alive?_

It took a few moments for Parker to look up at him. If Flash hadn't known any better, he would have said that the guy seemed... lost. But this was Peter Parker he was talking to, so no. “What...” Peter frowned, obviously trying his best to collect his wits. “What do I do now?”

_How am I supposed to know??_

Flash decided not to say that. Parker had that annoying Lost-Bambi expression on his face, and something told Flash that it wouldn't be wise to unsettle him even more now. He would probably cry. Flash didn't want to deal with a crying teenage boy. Instead, he harshly grabbed Peter's wrist, loosening his grip just a little when Parker winced.

“First, we get out of here. I can't think with this air.” The Latino Boy then proceeded to pull Parker in the general direction of the exit. Not without difficulties though, because one: There were still way too many people in this house, two: He wasn't entirely sure where the front door was anymore, and three: The other boy just would not stop stumbling.

It took Flash two embarrassingly long minutes to maneuver the failure that was Peter Parker out to the edge of the lawn, where he pushed the boy down on the low stonewall. Flash gripped his forehead, inhaling the fresh air and trying to get his brain to reboot. By now, Parker was definitely out of it. His head was weirdly crooked, and he didn't seem to be able to move on his own. Flash cursed under his breath.

He crouched down in front of Peter, trying to get a good look at the boy's eyes. He had to get a hold of what exactly the boy had been given, and seeing as he was no scientist, analyzing the symptoms and then asking the internet was his best bet.

What he saw honestly didn't surprise him that much, although he had to admit, it scared him a bit. Just a bit though.

Parker's forehead was scrunched up in pain (or he was just trying to remember something really badly, who was he to tell). He was swaying a little, unable to hold himself up properly. His eyes just added to the look of a complete wreck, only half opened and all dull and glazed over. But underneath that veil of apathy, if looked closely enough, he could recognize a twinge of panic.

Apparently, Peter's muscles thought this was a good moment to start toppling over. “Oh no you don't.” Flash jolted into action, catching the boy just before his head could hit his knee, and steadying him in a more or less sitting position.

Thinking about it, this would probably be a good time to call 911. On the other hand though, he knew that Parker was no rich man, and he would probably kill him and then himself if he found out that he had to pay a hospital bill because of Flash. Nope, not having that.

(Flash also knew that his own parents certainly wouldn't cover the bill.)

If hospital was really necessary, then he would fucking drive Parker himself.

Speaking of whom, the boy had somehow managed to fix his eyes on Flash, looking like an absolute mess.

“F-fl'sh?” Flash sighed. “Yep, alright, let's get you out of here.” He put Peter's arm across his own shoulders, clutching the boy's wrist with his right hand so it wouldn't fall down again. Peter's wrist was sweaty too, he noted. But it was a cold sweat. Wrapping his left arm around the younger boy's waist to steady him, Flash pulled Peter up. Or he tried to, at least. Damn it, that nerd was heavier than he looked. It was like he was sticking to the wall. Flash knew that right now, he probably looked like an idiot himself, but whatever.

“C'mon Peter, you gotta help me out a little.” The perplexed look on Peter's face was almost funny. Almost. Then, suddenly, Flash stumbled backwards, because for whatever reason Peter had just gotten twenty pounds lighter. Huh. Flash shook his head, adjusting the nearly limp arm on his shoulder. He could think about this later.

In addition to the obvious confusion, Peter seemed to have some coordination issues, as he was walking in weird wavy lines and almost kneeling over five times, but despite that, they made it to Flash's car without any incidents.

_Well, this isn't too bad._

  
  


  
  


...Do you ever notice that you should definitely not challenge fate by thinking something like this?

Because Flash did right now. He barely had enough time to finish the thought, when next to him Peter suddenly started retching. Just in time Flash let go off the other one's wrist, before Peter was throwing up on the sidewalk. “Gross, Parker.”

While Peter seemed to be puking up his intestines with a row of very unpleasant noises, Flash was uncomfortably standing behind him. What was he supposed to do?

Say something? No, probably not.

Turn away? What if something happened though?

Awkwardly pat his back? Hell no.

He settled on getting a pack of Kleenex from his car's glove department. When he returned, Peter seemed to be... done. He hadn't moved from where he was kneeling on his hand and knees, and now his whole body was shivering like a leaf, his elbows looking like they would quit their job any second now. It looked truly pitiful. Flash made a mental reminder to never do drugs.

Pulling himself together, Flash hooked his hands under Peter's arms. “Okay Parker, 3-2-1-” Once again, Flash had underestimated how freaking light Parker was when he wanted to be. With a yelp, he tripped and fell on his butt, Peter following closely and crashing into his chest, where he promptly stayed.  _Just great. Hopefully no one ever finds out about this_.

Flash emitted a long breath, telling himself to stay calm. It would help no one if he freaked out right now. Peter pulled his own knees to his chest and wrapped his lanky arms tightly around them, creating a remarkably small ball of pure misery. Flash rubbed his temples. He could do this, he told himself. He was a big boy and his parents had done a good job at raising him.

 _Well,_ his subconsciousness supplied, _that's debatable._

Shushing down the voice, Flash knelt down on the cold pavement, right next to Parker's still shaking form. He pointedly avoided looking at the puddle of puke, although the smell was biting in his nostrils. Flash hated that smell. He ignored it.

“Okay Parker, I'm gonna need you to look up now.” Peter did, although very slowly, and Flash kind of regretted having told him to. He looked horrible. Spit and vomit was clinging to his chin, mixing up with snot from his nose and the tears that were pouring from his puffy, red eyes.

Unintentionally, Flash scrunched up his face, and immediately felt bad about it. So, with some effort, he willed the all creases to disappear one by one, and handed Parker a tissue. The boy stared at it, perplexed, like he had forgotten what it was. After all of thirty uncomfortable seconds, he finally took it with shaking hands, and tried to clean his face. He did a terrible job. Wordlessly, Flash took another tissue and started wiping the other boy's tears off his face as gently as he could. _Wow, sappy_.

He wanted to make a snarky remark, he really did, because he was really really uncomfortable right now, but he bit it back with a lot of effort (quite literally bit, because he had to bite his inner cheek quite violently to keep the words from tumbling out). The boy had been drugged by some creep who probably wanted to kidnap and/or rape him, and undoubtedly already felt like shit. Give him a fucking rest.

Satisfied with the result, Flash carelessly let the Kleenex fall to the ground, silencing Captain America's voice, which was lecturing him about pollution in his head. Peter shivered violently. “Alright, let's get you to the car now, you're freezing up.”

With a lot of cursing, tripping and stumbling, Flash managed to lead Parker to the already open passenger door of his new car. He even got the other boy, who was now pale as a sheet and still kind of damp with an alarmingly cold sweat, to sit in the seat without bumping his head on the door frame beforehand. Flash counted that as a victory.

As Flash made his way around the back of the car to take his place as the driver, he stopped at the trunk. With a squint, he scanned over the variety of objects rotting away in there. Then, nodding to himself, he grabbed two little bottles of water and a thick woolen blanket, draping it over his forearm. He himself had used that blanked on multiple occasions, when it had seemed like a better idea to sleep in his car, instead of driving all the way home, just to...

Never mind. That wasn't important right now. What was important was, as much as it pained him to think, Peter Parker. Who was right now hopefully not dying in his passenger seat. Flash let out a deep, visible breath into the cold air of the night. He leaned back against his car, needing a moment to recap.

So. Parker had been drugged. That itself wasn't ideal. But, to be fair, he seemed to handle it pretty well. At least, he didn't black out.

Flash glanced through the window, checking if Peter was indeed still awake. He was.

Nevertheless it would be quite helpful to know which drug had been used. Flash screwed his eyes shut for a moment and tried to remember every bit of useful information he possessed.

For one, there was the drug itself. It was a clear liquid, and it had been mixed with alcohol. He also recalled that Peter had looked kind of disgusted when he drank it, so it probably tasted bitter. Or salty. He couldn't imagine a drug tasting sour. Moreover, the effects had only taken approximately three to five minutes to kick in, which seemed pretty short. But well, who knew what weird shit was going on in Parker's body. Maybe it was the alcohol.

The symptoms were a whole different story. Parker seemed to have problems with coordination, or moving at all for that matter, and had difficulties speaking. He was sweating, but his body temperature was pretty low. At least that's what Flash took from carrying Peter around the place. Of course there was also the vomiting.

Flash shook his head. This wouldn't do. Those were the effects of basically every drug ever. Emitting yet another deep huff, he pushed himself away from the car, and strolled over to the driver's door. After opening it with one hand and sliding into his seat, he glanced over at Parker. Still pale, still shivering, now staring at thin air with half lidded eyes.

Prying his eyes off him, Flash put the two water bottles into the cup holder to his right, and then went to clumsily drape the blanket over Peter. There was no response. Well that was kind of worrying.

"Parker?" Nothing. "You still with me, man? Peter?" The other teen blinked. Then he drew the blanket closer. Well, that was something. Regarding the boy as more or less conscious, Flash went to screw open one of the bottles, and bringing it to Peter's lips. Parker flinched. "Hey, it's just water. You need that." He looked at the bottle, squinting. His chapped lips parted ever so slightly, and when Flash tipped the bottle carefully, he gulped down some of the clear liquid. A lot of it also ran down his chin, but Flash didn't mention it, just wiped it away once Parker was done drinking. It felt weird, considering this was the guy he frequently made fun of at school. Well, first time for everything.

The boy screwed Peter's bottle shut and took a few sips from his own. He was glad that Peter actually got some of the water down. Then he glanced down at his watch. It was gone. Of course.

"Ah, fuck." Peter glanced over at him. Flash looked down, sighing. "I forgot my watch inside. It's probably gone now." To himself he quietly added "Father will have my head."

"'m s'ry," Peter croaked. Flash threw him a questioning glare. "'s my f'lt." There were tears in Parker's eyes again. What the fuck. Flash started the car. "Parker listen, it's really not. Okay, maybe a little bit, but it's not your fault you got drugged." Flash pulled his car onto the road, driving away from the party as fast as he could without crossing the speed limit. It wasn't very fast.

The party had been a typical suburb house party, so the drive back would probably take some time. Additionally, Flash had no idea where the fuck he was going. "Hey Parker, where do I bring you? The hospital?" Again, Parker flinched. If it was because his voice startled him, or because he was scared of hospitals, Flash didn't know.

"No h'st'tal." Flash nodded. Yeah, it was probably for the best. "Okay, then where? Your aunt? Where does she live?" Flash had never been to Peter's place, obviously. The only thing he knew was that the boy lived in Queens, and that was really no surprise, considering he went to Midtown Tech.

Peter, however, didn't respond. "Parker?" Flash took his eyes off the road for a second. "Where do you live?" He was sitting there, staring at his hands, visibly shaking again. The blanket had slid down from his shoulder. "I d'n't..." Flash frowned. "I don't r'memb'r." Peter let out a sob. So, amnesia, then. Great.

"Alright, don't worry, we'll figure it out."

He didn't know how to figure it out. There was Peter Parker, sobbing in his passenger seat, while he was driving and not knowing where. He had _not_ been trained for this. Keeping half his mind on the road, Flash took out his iPhone and had Siri google Peter's symptoms. After about ten minutes, he decided that Peter had most likely been given GHB. Which was bad, because that stuff was really dangerous in combination with alcohol. It also meant that Peter could get problems with breathing. Or hallucinate. Or fall into a short-term coma. All in all, not great.

At some point during their mostly silent drive, once the streets got busier, Flash had to stop the car on the sideline, because Peter would not stop groaning and pressing his hands onto his ears. It was too bright, too loud, too much, he muttered. So Flash stopped the motor to stop the vibrations, because it was the first thing he could come up with.

Flash knew what a sensory overload was. He had seen it before.

Flash rummaged through the depths of his brain, trying to remember what to do next. Decrease stimulation, he thought. That sounded weird. Never mind.

First, he pulled a pair of sunglasses and headphones from the glove department, careful not to touch Peter or be to loud. He helped the boy put them on. Next, he took the air freshener from the air conditioning, and with it in one hand and his phone in the other, he left the car, shutting the door as quietly as possible. He was hoping to reduce some of the smell and the sound of his breathing. That was all he could do.

Flash sat down next to his car, clutching his phone in his hand, and waited. He waited for several minutes, not bothering to turn on his phone, because he knew it wouldn't get him anywhere. So he waited in silence, counting the passing trucks. There were too many cars to count.

After about ten minutes, he got up again, glancing through the window. Peter had calmed down. Good.

Flash gingerly opened the door and slit into his seat again. Peter watched him, sunglasses in his hands. "Thank you."

That was the most comprehensible sentence from him since Flash had found him on the party. The Filipino boy nodded, acknowledging his gratitude. Then he started the car again.

Peter seemed to be better now, Flash noticed. His hair was still kind of damp from sweat, and he was still pale as a ghost, but he wasn't shaking anymore, and was holding the blanket in a strong grip. A short time later, he was asleep. Or dead.

Flash reached over for the boy's wrist, checking for a pulse. Alright, he was still alive.

However, when Flash retracted his hand, he must have accidentally pressed a button on the teenager's watch or something, for the device flared to life, a hologram screen appearing over it. A _hologram_. "What the fuck."

Flash squinted at the watch. It was a Stark Watch. One he'd never seen before in real life. Those things were _expensive._ But before he could keep pondering where Peter Parker got the money for a freaking _Stark Watch,_ it started fucking _speaking_.

"Hello Peter. It seems to be way past your curfew. What are you doing out of bed?"

Flash jumped so hard, he yanked the steering wheel around, almost causing his car to crash. He saved it the last moment though, breathing fast and heart hammering in his chest as he steadied the car again.

The voice from Peter's watch was young and female, and sounded just the tiniest bit artificial. Flash was at a loss of words, trying his hardest to keep his eyes on the road and not stare at the watch. "Please answer me, Peter. Your vitals are highly concerning. Should I call someone?"

Flash tried his best to form a rational response, ignoring how surreal the situation was. It wasn't easy, but he managed. "Err... who - who are you?" That was a dumb question.

There were a few seconds of profound silence, only punctuated by his car's engine. Then, "You are not the owner of this watch. Please identify." Flash frowned. This was definitely not a real person, it sounded way too straight for that. He answered nevertheless.

"My name is Flash Thompson, Miss. I'm with Peter right now." This time, the response was immediate. "Is Peter responsive, Mr. Thompson?" Honestly, Flash was kind of impressed. Whatever kind of AI this was, it was way more advanced than any he had ever heard of. And he was on the Decathlon team, so if one existed, he'd know it.

"No, Miss. I'm not sure if he's unconscious or just sleeping, though." Silence followed. Flash glanced over at the holographic screen over Peter's watch. It now showed a map, with a moving red dot showing the same location as the navigation system of his car. "Call me Karen."

Flash snorted silently. Alright. Karen, then. Weird name, especially for something artificial, but who was he to judge. It sounded like something Parker could come up with. He probably did, too. "Hey, Karen, do you know where Peter lives?” If he had an artificial intelligence to talk to now, he might as well. “I want to bring him somewhere, but I'm not sure where." He thought for a second. Then he added, "You know, he was at this party, and someone spiked his drink, so..." Maybe he should've mentioned that earlier, it seemed like important information now that he said it.

Karen didn't comment on his elaboration, probably thinking (progressing?). "Protocol 'Anti Pest Control' activated. Please follow the route marked on the watch." Flash almost wondered about the strange protocol name, but decided against it. He had better things to do. Careful not to take his eyes off the road for too long, because he was a responsible driver with valuable cargo on board, the boy struggled to remove the watch from Peter's wrist and put it on the dashboard. This way he could see the map better.

He followed the blue line on the hologram for about fifteen minutes, not really considering where he was actually going. That stopped when all of a sudden freaking Avengers Tower, in all of it's glowing multi-million dollar glory, appeared right in front of his windshield.

"Karen? What am I doing _here_ , of all places?" He stopped at a traffic light. Despite already ducking under the glass, he still wasn't able to make out the building's tip. Huh. This thing was way taller close up. "It is part of the 'Anti Pest Control' Protocol to ensure that Peter is brought into professional care as fast as possible. I would have contacted boss, but according to my calculations it was faster to just let you drive him."

She paused. Then she zoomed in on the map, and Flash was able to make out the tower's layout. The traffic light switched to green, and he pressed the gas pedal. Following the new blue line lead Flash around the tower, and into a rather inconspicuous driveway. Until there was a barrier blocking his path. Great. Cool. Now what? "Err... Miss Karen, what am I supposed to do here?" "Please let down your window. You may have to identify yourself again."

Flash did as he was told. He had been listening to this AI for twenty minutes now, and nothing bad had happened yet, so he might as well go for it. He rolled down the window and leaned out a little. Peter, who was by the way still sleeping in his passenger seat, shifted slightly as the cold draft hit his face. Flash shivered. He eyed the speakers next to him suspiciously, not sure what to say. Ah, fuck this.

"Hi, I'm Flash Thompson." He was only mildly surprised when a smooth, Irish voice answered. Another AI, he figured. "Good evening Mr. Thompson. My name is FRIDAY. How can I help you?" Flash huffed out a breath. What was his life? At least this AI had a better name than 'Karen'.

"Uh, you know, I'm a... a..." Flash frowned. What exactly was he? "Classmate.” Acceptable. “I'm a classmate of Peter Parker, and he is unconscious in my car right now. The lady from his watch, Karen, told me to come here." Wow, good job Flash, way to sound more ridiculous than necessary. The 'lady from his watch' uh huh. The woman, FRIDAY, didn't care though. "Scanning the vehicle."

Flash waited. He didn't see any scanning, but that was probably intentional. "Two life forms detected. Identified as Eugene 'Flash' Thompson and Peter Benjamin Parker. No weapons detected. You may enter." Okay, now this was kind of scary. How did she know his full name? Also, since when was Parker called _Benjamin_?

Flash decided to think about it later, and instead maneuvered his car through the gate that just opened. It lead to some kind of secret underground parking garage. Probably for staff members. Karen lead him through it, all the way down to the very last level. There, his car was scanned _again_ , before he could enter through reinforced doors,that immediately slid shut behind him, locking him in. Creepy.

He parked the car at the far wall, right next to what was probably the door to an elevator. Huffing out a breath, Flash turned off the engine and pulled the hand break. He looked at Peter. The guy was still asleep. Or comatose, who knew. But, surprisingly, he looked way better than earlier. Flash frowned. Could he really have digested the drug this fast? By just sleeping it off?

The teenager sighed, grabbing Peter's watch from the dashboard and leaving the car. At this point it was probably useless to to question Peter Parker. Flash shut the drivers door and turned to go around the car. He wasn't really sure what to do from here (not that he had been sure about anything in the first place), probably ask the watch where to bring Peter now, but he was stopped dead in his tracks.

A lot had happened this evening, and it was safe for him to say that he managed to handle it all surprisingly well. He could give himself that credit. But _this?_ This was too much now. Because the moment he turned around, he was faced with the one and only Tony Stark sprinting out of the elevator. The billionaire was sporting the bedhead of the century, along with sweatpants and a loose, stained AC/DC T-Shirt, which was, like, the polar opposite of what he looked like in the media. The deeply distressed expression on his face only added to that.

Flash was frozen. He could not move for the life of him, because what the actual _living_ fuck.

"Where's Peter? Is he alright?"

Flash opened his mouth, then closed it again. What the fuck what the fuck w _hat the fuck_ \- "He-He's in- in the car." Stark acknowledged him with a nod, and then seemed to expel his mere existence from his mind for the time being. Instead, he vaulted over to the car and ripped open the passenger door, catching Peter when the boy started toppling over into the now empty space.

What Flash got to witness next had to be one of the weirdest experiences of his life. Had someone told him about this, he would have snorted and walked away. Because not only did Stark keep Peter from hitting the ground, but he actually lifted him out of the car (after unbuckling the seat belt, because Flash was not an idiot), and placed the teenage boy _in his lap_ after sliding down to the ground himself.

And it didn't even end there. Peter stirred slightly, leaning back into the engineer's chest, and blinking his eyes open just the tiniest bit. Tony Stark smiled down at the boy, _actually_ smiled, not one of those fake media smiles for reporters, but an actual, _genuine s_ mile, and gently brushed Peter's hair out of the boy's face. "Hey kid."

Flash's mouth stood open. Wow. No one would _ever_ believe him this just happened. But, thinking of it, he wouldn't tell anyone either. Because he was definitely invading a very private moment right here, even a dumbass would notice that.

You could clearly see that Tony loved Peter. The realization hit Flash like a truck. You could read it on Tony's face, it was written all over it, shining right from the eyes. He loved that boy like a father would love his child. Huh, Flash thought. Tony Stark was a loving father. Who would have thought.

In any other case, Flash would have been jealous, he was pretty sure of that. He would have been jealous that Peter Parker, of all people, got to have a father figure who loved him, when Flash didn't. It wasn't really fair. But deep inside, Flash was nothing but happy for Peter. The boy deserved it.

Flash couldn't say he was surprised when he heard Peter mutter a very slurred "Dad?"

Tony then picked Peter up, and started walking towards the elevator, not sparing Flash, who was still frozen next to his car, a second thought. The boy couldn't really blame him. The man was preoccupied with something far more important.

"Wait!" Tony turned around, already half in the elevator, and raised an eyebrow at Flash. Peter was more or less awake now, still huddled into Flash's blanked and leaning against Tony's shoulder. Flash jogged over to them, holding out a hand. "Your watch." The device was laying in his palm.

Neither of the two looked capable of taking it right now, so the older teenager just went for it and carefully grabbed Peter's wrist. He slid the watch over his hand and fixed it in it's place, nodding to himself once his work was done. Peter smiled.

Flash stepped out of the elevator, and the doors slid shut. The last thing he saw was Tony Stark giving him a single nod, and then looking back down at his son – a silent thank you.

Flash drove back home on his own.

  
  


The next morning, Flash woke up with a groan. He had been up way too long. Groggy from sleep, he reached to where his watch should rest on the bedside table, only to find the space empty. Flash groaned again. Right. He'd kinda forgotten about that.

The boy stumbled over to where his phone was charging on his desk. Why was there no damn outlet next to his bed again? He clicked the power button. Squinting at the way too bright display, he tried to decipher the numbers in front of his Spider-Man lockscreen. 11:53. Cursing slightly, Flash dropped the phone again, and hurried to find clothes. If he didn't show up in time for lunch, his mum would have an aneurism again.

The boy scrambled to pick up a decent pair of pants from somewhere on The Chair™, but something caught his eye halfway through. There was something in front of the window. Slowly, Flash sneaked over. It was a little note, stuck to the glass, and behind that a brown paper bag. Flash pushed the window open, snatching the piece of paper and the bag. He read the what it said.

  
  


_Thank you - PP_

_...for helping my kid. -TS_

  
  


Flash grinned. He carefully peaked into the bag. There, on the bottom, laid a Stark Watch. The same model Peter had. Flash weighed it in his palm, then put it on.

Grinning, he studied the new watch. It fit his small wrist perfectly.

 


End file.
